09.26.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 11:28 pm by Sarah
A culture shock really. The offices are spacious and pleasant. Instead of a shabby desk crammed in a corner I have a lovely u-shaped arrangement with ridiculously large screens and a high-tech chair. The kitchen is crammed with all kinds of food – two dozen kinds of cereal, half dozen varieties of tea, two coffee machines, the fridge is jammed with bottled water and various juices and drinks. Every day random piles of sandwiches and boxed salads are ordered in. Around the office bowls overflow with fruit and snacks. You could live here quite comfortably with tasty supplies to keep you going for several weeks.
When you’ve come from the Dickensian conditions of the typical Irish office – and I’ve worked in more than one startup – this takes some getting used to. I expressed my surprise to the boss on the burden this luxury must place on the burn rate. He brushed it off. Apparently this is how companies in the Valley must treat their workers or they simply won’t turn up. Oh and even though this start up is under pressure to deliver a product in the coming weeks, there is no feverish slaving going on. The atmosphere is calm, focused but relaxed. People are busy but coming in and going home at reasonable hours.
On the one hand I wonder where we went wrong. On the other I suppose this accounts for some of the enthusiasm foreign investors have for Ireland. Our wages might be high but our productivity and cost of maintenance is low. Are we the Chinese of Europe?
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09.25.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 5:00 pm by Sarah
I am in California – Palo Alto to be precise.
Sandwiched between the ocean and the bay, the air is astonishingly crisp and clean and the weather is beautiful. The streets are clean, the cars are quiet, no one raises their voice, service is a cheerful profession rather than a sullen source of resentment. It could get sterile pretty easily, but it is remarkably pleasant.
Then you pick up the paper and realise how polarised the country is – politically and socially. It’s tragic and that fool Bush is singlehandedly destroying anything that’s good and making things worse for the poor and the peaceful. WHY did they elect him? The fools, the fools….
Great breakfasts though. It’s my dinner time so I am digging into 3 course meals in the morning. Yummy 
Oh and one worries about the economy when you see the shops so quiet – EXCEPT for Apple – their store was packed! Everyone has Macs, and iPhones. Thank God I got a Mac..I’d die of shame if I was lumping around some yucky Dell thing…Bad enough having a clunky Nokia phone which didn’t seem so clunky back in Ireland
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09.23.07
Posted in Domestic/Relationships, International Politics at 11:17 am by Sarah
So the spin spews forth. Example such as Brendan O’Connor in today’s SINDO argue that the Ahern is the innocent victim of a pointless witch hunt and that god help the man he was separated and its not fair.
1. Whatever about the Tribunal , the Rev are going to have some fun. The October 31 deadline is coming up for tax returns and I just filed mine. Every single €50 I get for minor radio interviews has to be accounted for. And he’s pissed off cos we’d like to know where he got the £50k in CASH from? My parents were audited in the early nineties, around about the time Bertie was dropping Celia off to the bank with a briefcase full of cash. The taxman went through my mother’s account at the local shop and claimed she couldn’t possibly be feeding her family on the low budget shown in the accounts. She had to explain how she fed us! And Bertie thinks we are supposed to accept he saved 50k in cash? Oh please. So fine, cancel the Tribunal, let the Rev in and publish the settlement in the paper. Hasn’t he already given them some money “on account”? He’ll have to make another lodgement to that account I reckon. He was the Minister for Finance and St. Luke’s was like some medieval counting house (oh ,except of course, they didn’t count, so they don’t know exactly how much they got).
2. Tom Gilmartin says that Eoin O’Callaghan told him he gave Bertie two payments of £50k and £30k. The Tribunal is asking Ahern the source of money,£50k and £30k which were lodged to his accounts. Why is that obscure? Why is that a waste of time? This is what the Tribunal is for. Seems quite logical to me. More logical than someone saving their entire salary ( what was left from the alimony) in cash in a safe over 5 years.
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Posted in Uncategorized at 10:26 am by Sarah
So, my flight is delayed for at least 3 hours, but fortunately I am travelling with BA who are extremely pleasant and provide vouchers, transfers and accommodation for discommoded passengers, instead of telling the pig passengers to feck off, like certain other airlines.
Also, thanks to the wonders of Apple and despite being raped for WiFi charges I am here in a comfortable corner, connected to the world, typing away, phoning home and listening to music. Sure I’m grand. I’m practically on holidays.
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Posted in Feminism at 9:50 am by Sarah
It’s been a bad week. First, David McWilliams scared the bejaysus out of us all on Monday night, although at least he did it with a spring in his step. Economics is the dismal science and they don’t get more dismal than George Lee, who gave us another mauling on Prime Time on Tuesday. I spent the rest of the week calculating which of my monthly outgoings will have to be eliminated when interest rates double, Intel flees and my husband job’s is outsourced to China.
But while it’s fine for McWilliams and Lee to talk things down, we’re not having German ambassadors blabbing to outsiders about traffic congestion and how much our senior civil servants are paid. Oh no.
The hullabaloo over the remarks made by Christian Pauls reminded me of the time I stayed in a friend’s house as a teenager. Two sisters constantly complained about their grandmother, mocking her and calling her dreadful names. Finally I met the dreaded granny and indeed she lived up, or rather down, to their description. When she left the room, I cheerfully concurred: “Gosh, she is an old bag, isn’t she?” Whereupon one of the sisters burst into tears and didn’t speak to me for two days. You can criticise your own, but on no account are visitors allowed to have a pop.
The lesson is one which most spouses have learnt the hard way. Having a go at the in-laws is up there with driving advice as a guaranteed marital row-starter.
So perhaps Ambassador Pauls isn’t married and doesn’t know the rule? Everyone from President Mary McAleese to Archbishop Sean Brady down to common or garden columnists and taxi drivers make searing indictments of Irish society and are usually praised for their bravery and honesty. But criticism from a foreigner? And a German, to boot?
Dermots Ahern and Gallagher, minister and secretary-general at the Department of Foreign Affairs respectively, didn’t even wait until the ambassador could clarify a garbled account of what he may or may not have said, via a translater, before administering formal slaps on the wrist to Pauls. They claimed that his speech, made in Clontarf Castle to a delegation of 80 German industrialists, was “inaccurate and misinformed”. Rubbish. Pauls’ remarks were bang on the button, and deep down we all know that. Didn’t everyone in Ireland, for example, choke with outrage when a consultant dismissed an offer of a €200,000 annual salary and a possible additional €20,000 as “Mickey Mouse money”? So what’s wrong with foreigners hearing about it?
Pauls noted that 20% of the workforce are in the public sector (true) and that the Catholic Church has lost moral authority due to the exposure of sex scandals (obvious). The ambassador denied that he used the term “coarse” to describe Irish society, but an increasing number of Irish people use precisely that word to describe it.
I, too, wonder who is paying for all the high-end 07 cars that pass me on the road, so why shouldn’t Pauls crack a joke about the phenomenon? Perhaps he was obliquely praising his native country’s engineering when he pointed out that most German cars are eight or nine years old. Vorsprung durch technik, and all that.
The ambassador reasonably stated that there is a debate over whether our new prosperity has made Irish society a rougher, less caring one. Sounds a lot like “the problems of prosperity” that Fianna Fail talk about when they are being on-message.
His comment that Irish history is “even sadder than Poland’s” was also used against the ambassador, as if this was some sort of insult. In fact, some political groups in Ireland treat the 800 years of oppression as a badge of honour.
But what Pauls said was not really the issue. The problem was that he forgot the basic rules of criticism. In theory, we admire those who speak honestly, and we insist that constructive criticism is welcome. In practice, we bristle at the slightest hint of negativity. Nobody actually likes criticism, whatever they say before it’s delivered. If criticism must be voiced, it should be done in a very, well, diplomatic way. Which I suppose is quite ironic.
The other thing poor Pauls did wrong was to show us up in front of visitors, another no-no on the domestic front. If the ambassador’s audience was Irish, his comments might have been forgiven. But having a pop in front of other Germans was out of order. Whatever about the Catholic Church, putting on a good face is still the dominant religion in Ireland. Getting the country ready for visiting Yanks – John F Kennedy, Ronald Reagan, Tiger Woods among them – provided the impetus to do some serious spring cleaning in the past. With damp spots to cover up, they didn’t call it white-washing for nothing. These days the state formally adopts the role of the panic-stricken mammy when it knows visitors are coming. Charlie Haughey was a great man for this. When Ireland assumed the presidency of the European Commission, we could be guaranteed a frenzied spree of pot-hole filling and tarmacing in the weeks preceeding the arrival of Mercs. As soon as the foreign dignatories arrived, there wouldn’t be a spade to be seen.
Similarly, as McWiliams observed on The Generation Game on Monday, the M7 wasn’t finished in a hurry to relieve the stress of Irish commuters but to put on a good show for the golfers flying in for the Ryder Cup last summer. We’ll put up with any level of misery ourselves, but there’s no way we’d let the side down in front of visitors. It’s pure instinct. When I was young and my mother had guests for dinner, the Careys would operate the FHB rule – Family Hold Back – without even being told. A sliver of lamb was to be gratefully received and offers of seconds vigorously refused until the visitors were taken care of. They were to go home assured of our affluence and comfort. You didn’t mention the bad plumbing or draughts coming in under the door.
As a nation we have employed the same policy. The Industrial Development Authority lured investment into the country by talking up our young educated population, and keeping quiet about the absence of infrastructure. We are experts at sweeping the bad stuff under the carpet. Ambassador Pauls must’ve missed the induction course where foreign diplomats are trained in this Irish custom. Despite the thorough telling off he got last week, at least the German ambassador is being allowed to carry on in his last posting before retirement. Were he a younger man, one can envisage him, Father Ted-like, exiled to the Craggy Island of the diplomatic world, some obscure -stan with a harsh climate. Instead he’ll be heading home to Germany just as our Winter of Discontent descends. Still it looks at least like George Lee and David McWilliams will be vindicated at last. Every cloud, and all that.
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09.19.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 12:53 pm by Sarah
Went off to Liffey Valley with the sister last night. What a lovely cinema, but in a wasteland.
I had really enjoyed the book up until the double ending revelation. I was furious. Well, frustrated. Anyway, I headed off to the movie with some reservations.
It was brilliant. Beautifully produced and with wonderful acting. Saoirse Ronan who played the young Briony was excellent as were the other children. I thought she made Briony’s actions very understandable. And the adults didn’t help themselves by ignoring her obvious distress. Robbie was brilliant and of course Vanessa Redgrave had a small part but was so moving. The only irritation was Kiera Knightly, or rather Kiera Knightly’s jaw.
She is lovely. The Helena Bonham Carter of the noughties. The jaw is slightly overshot but I’d forgive that if she didn’t ACT with it. Her style is quite restrained, which is good. But she appears to express all her emotion, from anger to passion to sadness, through her chin. She tenses it, juts it out, clenches her teeth. All the smoking didn’t help. What is that about? Still nice dress though. And just goes to show you don’t need tits to look good. In fact, she makes tits look common.
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09.16.07
Posted in Sunday Times Columns at 8:50 am by Sarah
When I was 22 I developed a stomach ulcer. It was the most illuminating illness of my life. About 80% of stomach ulcers are caused by bacteria called Helicobacter Pylori discovered in the 1980s. Until then ulcers were blamed on stress, smoking and alcohol. Treatment required expensive, acid-reducing medication. Nowadays a simple test detects the presence of H. Pylori, which can be treated with a short course of antibiotics. This is great for people with ulcers, and not so great for pharmaceutical companies who can only sell their fancy tablets to the 20% of patients whose ulcers are the result of old-fashioned bad habits. I was in the 20%.
Life wasn’t going well at the time. I was so filled with anxiety I could hardly eat, though I managed to drink a little too enthusiastically. For a time I had what you might call a prolonged out-of-body existence. I could see that friends and family were worried, but they had no idea how to make a simple inquiry about my apparent misery, or what to do about it were I to make a confession.
So life went on as I slowly disintegrated. And then the miracle happened. I got sick and was diagnosed with an ulcer. Suddenly the transparent curtain that had divided me from everyone else was raised. “She has an ulcer!” At last a name could be put on it. I took to the bed for a couple of weeks. I had visitors, concerned phone calls and was minded carefully. I didn’t drink for two years and never smoked again. Project Sarah was back on track and with everyone rallying around I recovered in mind and body.
So getting an ulcer was the best thing that could’ve happened. People needed a physical illness and a prescription of treatment before they felt free to intervene. When it was only my mental health at stake,
they had absolutely no idea how to act, what to say or even what question to ask. So I never forgot the name of the bacteria I didn’t have; and I never forgot that even the most caring, intelligent people can be useless when faced with a melancholic friend.
A little later, in the time before email, a flatmate wrote to her sister and for amusement I asked her to read out her letter. It began, “Dear Mary, I hope you are well. My mental health is good”. I laughed at this introduction, but she said that’s what her sister would want to know. We agreed that the usual greeting of “How are you?” is too easily answered with a cheerful “Fine” even if the truth is “Awful”.
We’re programmed to respond positively to general inquiries about our health. So my friend and I started a practice of inquiring after each others’ mental health and I’ve done my best to spread the habit. My family is
now accustomed to the practice, and relishes giving completely accurate answers to the query. “How is your mental health?” I’ll ask my brother. “Stable,” he’ll say, which being familiar with the rollercoaster of mood swings we deem pretty positive.
“How is your mental health?” my sister will ask me suspiciously when I appear in public with scraggy hair and dirty clothes. “Well I was in a trough of despair yesterday but I think I am starting to crawl out of it.”
“How is your mental health?” my other sister asked my father last week when he appeared reluctant to attend a family dinner. “I think I’m suffering from belated post-traumatic stress caused by the house move last year.” Oh.
Only my mother defies us by invariably responding “Great”. She belongs to the “No use in complaining” school of Irish mammyhood. Her relentless positivism has its uses, but the rest of us love the liberation that comes from the acknowledgement that cheerfulness need not be the default mood.
Now that the wall of awkwardness has fallen, we’ve discovered the sweet taste of freedom and a downward spiral of negativity is avoided.
First, we are free to ask the question which 15 years ago no one knew how to form, terrified how to approach someone else’s bad mood. It’s easy when someone is physically ill because the sickness is viewed as a separate entity from the patient – the wicked flu descended and overwhelmed the innocent victim. But when depression or anxiety arrive, an element of personal responsibility is involved.
Shouldn’t the victim be stronger? What weakness in their character prevents them from fighting off these evil spirits? Aren’t their problems their own fault? And worse, what is anyone else supposed to do about it? The helplessness a friend can feel when faced with the misery of another can turn to frustration and then resentment. If only the miserable git would pull themselves together you wouldn’t have to feel bad. “How is your mental health?” gives them a way into all this, without making an accusation of poor character.
Secondly, once freed from the automatic dialogue of “how are you/fine” it is incredibly liberating to answer the question truthfully. We all have temporary bouts of minor depression or anxiety but it can seem impossible to articulate them. Keeping it to yourself and pretending to be happy just makes you feel worse. Now you’ve got permission to say: “Well this morning I woke up in a fog of existential gloom.” The great thing is that removing the pressure to feel good all the time has the effect of making you feel better.
The best bit is that we’ve found that asking and answering can in itself effect a cure. The enquirer doesn’t have to do anything other than ask and sympathetically listen to the response. The second part is really important. Humans have basic instincts, from sexual to survival, but none stronger than the urge to give advice, regardless of how unqualified they may be. This instinct to wade in with solutions to problems is distinctly unhelpful when someone is unhappy. If you are not already depressed, a barrel load of advice which you feel incapable of following could tip you over the edge. I’ve done it myself countless times but am slowly learning to hold back.
There aren’t always solutions to life’s problems and most of the time we just have to wait for the storm to pass and the fog to lift. One morning you wake up and feel bad; another morning will come when you feel good. In the meantime you’d like a little sympathy. You shouldn’t have to contract pneumonia to get it.
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09.15.07
Posted in Feminism at 9:36 pm by Sarah
This week the ST asked me if I wanted to write about there being neither national anthem nor flag for Ireland at the World Cup. I thought about it and decided:
a) I don’t really give a shit about rugby
b) its been done before anyway. What could I possibly lend to the subject?
This evening as the match started I ranted in my head “I am SICK of rugby. SICK of sport. Every bloody night stupid matches dominating the evening. I have no ill will towards the players. I don’t want them to lose. But honestly, when did sport take over the world?”
Then the teams lined out and I saw the Georgians stand up straight and belt out their national anthem. Good anthem I thought. Those guys look like they believe in something. I didn’t even wait for the farce that is Ireland’s Call and the stupid makey up flag. Like, what’s the point?
An hour later the sound of M shouting finally pissed me off enough to come downstairs and complain. Of course I ended up standing in front of the telly but listening to Newstalk106 in…not quite horror, but confusion? amazement? fascination? as I watched the PANIC on Brian O’Driscoll’s face. O’Gara was WRECKED. They were in bits and the Georgians did not give up. They were incredible And if their kicker hadn’t been so stupid and kept kicking instead of going for tries, they probably could’ve won.
And then O’Sullivan comes on and tries to pretend that a disaster didn’t just happen? As M said, seconds later endorsed by the wonderful George Hook, (how did RTE screw up so badly?) Eddie makes Stan look good. (Hook had great lines – suggested Eddie needed a dope test and was clearly hysterical )
Oh, and TV3 break to 15 minutes of ads while Newstalk share the electric atmosphere inside the stadium describing the lap of honour being done by the LOSING side and the standing ovation by the crowd including the Irish supporters.
And I thought…you know what guys, if you were playing for a country and had an anthem and a flag you believed in , you wouldn’t be arsing around that pitch like stupid posh school boys who just got a kicking from a mucker team with a bit of heart. Exactly how many times a day do I see O’ Gara advertising something? and Drico just pays too much attention to his hair to convince. I think they were a great team last year and then they sat back and lapped up the stardom they got in this stupid little country of ours and expected it all to come to them. [ And i LIKE O’Gara and O’Driscoll was great last year in Croke Park).
Why are GAA matches so exciting? Because the players would break themselves for their county. The Irish team have forgotten that they are playing for IRELAND and of course they have..they haven’t even got a bloody flag to salute before the game. I know nothing about tactics but I know sport is about psychology. How can you instill any pride in a team if they don’t know who they even represent? I’s the IRISH team. Play the fecken the anthem and raise the flag and cut the bullshit. Anyone who doesn’t like it can leave.
Damn. Should’ve written the column after all…
Update: M says I don’t know what I am talking about Well what’s new? He says individual players like O’Connell etc are tough as hell and completely motivated so enthusiasm is not the issue. I’m not convinced
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09.13.07
Posted in Feminism at 10:36 am by Sarah
Ok, Mary Raftery, Commander in Chief of the Anti-Catholic Brigade goes just ONE step too far today.
Regular readers will know that I try to maintain a balanced perspective on religion. Regardless of my own personal beliefs I don’t set out to take faith away from others, and while I resent the domination of the church in our educational and health system I recognise that a) the state is responsible for allowing the system to develop in a way which relieves them of a considerable burden and b) the church has done much good as well as harm.
Not Mary. Her latest thesis is
“….not even those most opposed to the concept of a Catholic ethos in schools have ever accused it of being responsible for making children fat. [Mary is now about to do this] This, however, is one possible interpretation of the results of an international survey which compared the performance of a number of countries in the area of educational provision and achievement.
Carried out by the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD), it looked at the amounts of time devoted to various subjects during the school day across 28 countries….
For the basic subjects, Ireland was in the average range. However, we scored top of the class in one area – we devote more time than any other country (two and a half times more) to religious instruction. At the same time, we are bottom of the pile for the amount of time we allow for physical education, less than everywhere else in the developed world.
….With slightly less time devoted to making them holy, perhaps they might end up healthier, were that time instead to be devoted to physical activity. And in the context of a growing problem of obesity in children, the current balance becomes increasingly absurd.”
Crucially she concedes, but only briefly that “The setting of the curriculum is, of course, the job of the State.”
As I understand it
1. The state does set the curriculum
2. Many schools are stuck for physical space to do PE especially in inclement weather
3. Some schools are afraid of PE in case they get sued for injuries. [ didn't the Dept of Education make it clear last year that Boards of Management are liable for personal injury claims - perhaps members of the Board PERSONALLY liable?]
4. How many suburbs do we know where there are acres of undeveloped fields which could be playing pitches etc for public use?
5. Schools would have to spend all day doing PE to get the weight off the chauffeur-driven, chip-eating, couch potatoes they are sent. Whatever happened to blaming the parents? Or do the priests have to take the blame for everything now?
Diarmuid Martin was right when he said its not the church’s responsibility to provide a place for every school child in Dublin – that’s the state’s job. And blaming religious education for the lack of physical education is ludicrous. Honestly, if I suggested that thesis as a column at the ST I’d be laughed out of it.
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09.12.07
Posted in Sunday Times Columns at 1:08 pm by Sarah
Sigh. A slump. The house is clean,there is nothing left to bake, the boys are at creche, M is still away, I am wandering about the home and internet… my interest in manically pursuing projects has waned. There are some pieces of research I should be doing but with no deadline imminent I am listless. And sure a poll will come out at the weekend saying 80% of people think Bertie’s telling porkies but they don’t care. I could eat something or go to bed. This is where religion would be useful. I could go to mass or something….and column topics…………uuugh its all been done before hasn’t it?
hmmm maybe a swim…….OR I could eat something and watch reruns of medical dramas on telly……….hmmmmmm
Update: ok day finished up alright. I tackled the garden (see comments below) but major breakthrough came in most unexpected way. Collected boys from creche, M came home and cousins came over for “cement” play. I retreated inside for a lie down. Got up and M casually pointed out that T (the little guy) had emptied his “cement” into the sink of the downstairs WC. Which was now blocked. M had removed heavy debris from actual sink but pipe was well and truly blocked. I tried a plunger but nothing doing. SO! I inspected pipes. And soon enough I have dismantled u-bends and s-bends and cleared the blockage. I am champion plumber! And fixer of all messes. Hurrah!
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